While recently going through items stored in the attic, I came across this framed piece. It was my father’s and I had totally forgotten about it. I remember taking this print home following my Dad’s passing. It wasn’t the right color nor did it match my decor. I tucked it away nonetheless because of it’s meaning and it’s been sleeping in the dark and accumulating dust for 20 years.

You see, lighthouses hold a special place in our hearts as a family. My great-grandfather was a sea captain in Newfoundland and that affinity for the ocean runs deep. As a photographer (and lover of coastlines) I enjoy snapping pix of these beacons that reach to the sky on bluffs overlooking the great blue expanse. They’re majestic symbols, full of purpose…

Guiding the lost, the weary to safety.

My kids loved signing (and doing the motions to) “My Lighthouse” at Church when they were little…

“Safe to shooooore, safe to shooooore…” they’d bellow at the top of their lungs.

Lighthouses have taken on new meaning for me lately. Rooted in memories and safety, I wonder just how many times I’ve chosen to ignore their purpose and light, instead opting to “chart my own course”. These choices often lead to frustration and discouragement, wondering why my own navigation results in getting lost at sea, or worse yet, crashing into the rocks.

Like Jesus, lighthouses are there to guide us, to the safety of the port, back to shore.

Are your seas turbulent? Are you clinging to the ship’s wheel as the wind, fog and darkness surround you?

Look up, my Friend. Look to the light, the light of Heaven and set your course to the safety of Jesus.

“Safe to shooooore…”